


Purgatory

by itwilleatyourbabies



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Skating, Mute - Freeform, Olympics, Will add more tags as chapters progress, hodge podge of fics, possible triggers (?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwilleatyourbabies/pseuds/itwilleatyourbabies
Summary: A collection of fics that I feel are too short to be their own things. All different AUs.





	Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys.  
> I've been trying to write the next chapter of Just Strangers all month but I just can't right now. My assistant debate coach passed away recently and I can't describe just how hard it's been for me. I'm so angry and confused and upset and I just can't write any linear story right now. I've been doing a lot of vent writing. I wanted to post some of those pieces, so here's one of the first. If you would like to see more let me know.  
> Thanks for the patience with the next chapter.  
> Panic

“Ah, fuck” The blood dripped slightly off of her hand as she whipped it quickly on her leggings. It was only blood, after all. It was just some fucking blood. Just. Some. Blood. Her heart felt tight in her chest, beating like it was trying to carry itself downstream through her body until it was able to squeeze itself out cut in her hand. 

“Fuck.” She whispered to herself again as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Hair thown up in a messy bun, fly away blonde hairs desperate to get away they curled themselves around her sweat-slicked neck. She looked disgusting. Her cheeks were red from the biting cold of the rink, blue eyes were red and blotchy from crying, she had split her lip while biting down on it after each jump. Her sweatshirt covered the bruises that littered her back from her fall earlier in the day, she just had to get it together. It didn’t matter how bad she looked on the outside because she knew that on the inside she looked worse. 

Her head hurt. She placed her head between her knees as she sat down on the bench, she couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment that rattled her chest. She couldn’t help that her whole body hurt from falling and that her legs felt like they were about to give out from fatigue she swore she could hear them whispering about how they couldn’t carry her anymore. Couldn’t carry the pressure anymore. 

She also couldn’t help when the tears started to fall again. First gently and then all at once. Like snowflakes, they came, tiny drops landing in unique patterns against the cold metal floor, cascading from her eyes and dropping to the ground. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that all the other girls seemed to skate effortlessly, she allowed her skates to fall from her hand into the ground the sound of the metal blade hitting the concrete floor hurt but Sasha couldn’t hear it through the sounds of her own sobs she wasn’t sure when those had started. 

Her parents put her on the ice when she was five because she liked the snow. And of course, she loved the skating loved the grace loved the beauty loved the harsh training. She loved the way the cheers sounded and she loved the way the outfits made her look. She loved the US nationals and she loved the way her “Team USA” jacket fit her body so well. 

But this was harder. Harder than she thought. 

She was supposed to be a skater. 

She was supposed to be one of the best skaters in the world. 

She was expected to be the best. 

She wanted to be the best. 

But instead of being the best she sat on the bench of the training rooms crying because she couldn’t land her short program. She couldn’t perfect the easiest skate in all the games. She couldn’t do the easiest thing. 

She wished her coach was here. She wishes that she had him and not whoever this Olympic coach was. She wished that he was here instead to encourage her when she fell. To help her feel better even though she knew she wasn't doing her best. 

He used to tell her about his own stint if figure skating, the time he beat the Russians at the world championship, the way he would sometimes get too cocky about her own ability and try and get her to land tricks she couldn’t do. He always pushed her to her breaking point and sometimes even beyond that but he was always there to help her get back up. To skate around that rink one more time. 

He used to tell her “It’s just another skate” even though sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was the US nationals, sometimes it was the skate between her and the Olympics and goddamn those weren’t the same, but he sure made her feel like they were. 

The hand the rested itself on the small of her back shocked her, but not enough for her to react quickly. She was too tired to react quickly and instead, she slowly lifted her head. The face that was smiling at her was gentle, and concerned look in her eyes. She didn’t recognize the other woman right away, but she was able to quickly recognize the Team USA jacket that hung around her shoulders. The other woman introduced herself before Sasha and time to register the whole situation. 

“I’m Shea Coulee” She smiled as Sasha attempted to nod back, “I’m a bobsledder.” Sasha was able to smile lazily at that. 

“Are you okay?” Her voice was wry, the answer, even without words, was a resounding “no.” Sasha just shrugged.

“This is harder than I thought it would be.” Shea nodded at her understandingly. 

“You’re a good skater, I watched you practice. I think you just need to get out of your head.” Sasha nodded. 

“You’re probably right.” The other woman laughed, shocking Sasha. 

“I usually am.” A bell sounded, the sound that told them their break was over, that there was still more than enough work to be done. Shea smiled at Sasha as she left. 

“I know you’re going to do great.” 


End file.
